


Star Destroyers: Two High Men Stare At A Battleship

by E350tb



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Battleships, Gen, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27609074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/E350tb/pseuds/E350tb
Summary: There's... really not much else to say about this one.Based on DepressedCarrot's phenomenal 'Star Destroyers' universe.
Relationships: Buck Dewey & Sour Cream
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	Star Destroyers: Two High Men Stare At A Battleship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DepressedCarrot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DepressedCarrot/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Star Destroyers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25610359) by [DepressedCarrot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DepressedCarrot/pseuds/DepressedCarrot). 



They had come to Los Angeles for another party Marty had scored invites for - if Sour Cream’s deadbeat dad was good for anything, it was network opportunities. The two men had no idea where Steven and Jenny had disappeared to; they’d lost them in the hedonist haze, and to be completely honest they didn’t even remember if they’d actually made any industry connections. The hammering in their heads that morning had certainly told them they’d made a connection with  _ something _ , though.

It had been a morning of silence and regret, followed by greasy, allegedly English muffins from a fast-food drive through for lunch. Now they’d ended up by the ocean, the hangover fading to be replaced by a high from a couple of spare brownies Sour Cream had found in the glove department. They’d ended up in a parking lot, gazing at a giant behemoth of steel.

This was the USS _Iowa_ Museum, a little way east of Long Beach. The two men had no money to enter, nor particular interest in doing so, but it was something interesting to look at as they sat on the little picnic bench outside. Sour Cream had his phone out, lazily looking up it’s Wikipedia article.

“This thing weighs 46,000 tons,” read Sour Cream, “And it’s 887 feet long.”

He blinked and looked up.

“That baby could fit _so much weed._ ”

“Mm,” grunted Buck. “They wouldn’t let you, though. Government needs all that space for guns and shit.”

“Yeah,” replied Sour Cream. “Apparently it has sixteen inch guns. Is that, like, how long they are, or how wide they are?”

Buck shrugged.

“Man,” he said. “Can you imagine how much they spent on this thing?”

“Millions?”

“Nah, not in money,” replied Buck. “In, like, schools. Or houses. Or junk like that. Imagine how much food you could send to Africa for the money that thing cost.”

Sour Cream nodded,

“Yeah,” he said.

“War is a racket, bro.”

“You saw that on a book cover at the airport,” said Sour Cream.

“It’s true, though,” replied Buck.

He sat back.

“What if we could just…” He paused for a moment, choosing his words. “What if we could just get all the world leaders around a table, and get them to solve everything by talking and understanding. Get them to understand what really matters.”

“And what really matters?” asked Sour Cream.

“Music,” replied Buck. “Pizza. Weed. The father, the son and the holy spirit.”

“Shouldn’t it be pizza, then weed?” quizzed Sour Cream.

Buck turned to him and blinked.

“Because then,” explained Sour Cream. “It’d be the father, the _song_ and the holy spirit.”

Buck pondered, and then he nodded with absolute reverence.

“You’re right,” he said seriously. “You’re so right.”

They turned back towards the ship.

“Make weed, not war,” said Sour Cream.

“Amen.”


End file.
